Love was easy to ignore before she met Maria Hill.
Before New York, Natasha could count on one hand the number of people she'd loved in her life. There had been a boy in her early teens, whose smile she could remember long after she'd forgotten his name. There had been a student in Belgium, a girl with golden hair that Natasha had enjoyed running her fingers through. Even before New York, Natasha counted Clint and Phil with them – even though she loved them both in equal, differing ways.
After New York was different. Phil was dead and then not, as indestructible as ever. Tony was less of a pain in the ass when it wasn't her responsible for him, and Natasha had to admit that he and Bruce together could be a lot of fun. Thor was ridiculous. Steve, too, though in a different way.
She realised how she felt about them, of course; it was hard not to, spending as much time together as they did.
Maria kind of sneaked up on her.
It was just that Natasha had never even entertained the possibility that they could be friends. She'd first seen Maria as an enemy, then a stern but fair superior. It had taken her years to relax even around Phil; but one night after New York, when it was she, Phil, Maria and Clint sitting in a bar, getting steadily drunker, and she said something cutting to Clint that had Phil tossing an arm around his shoulders and Maria laughing into her drink, Natasha realised. She looked at Maria, and Maria smiled back, still trying to hold in her laughter.
Natasha finished her drink and left soon after that. She spent a sleepless night thinking about it and then, after seeing Phil sneak out of Clint's room at six in the morning, thought about it some more.
Clint told her about Phil a week later – and a week after that, they were back at the bar. Natasha was glad Clint had told her, because after a couple of drinks, he and Phil were all over each other.
Natasha rolled her eyes. To her left, Maria chuckled.
"Two super spies, my ass," she said. "You think they'd get a room."
Natasha laughed. Phil and Clint didn't notice. She turned her head and looked at Maria, who had just drunk enough for her eyes to be too dark, her cheeks too flushed.
"Or we could get one," Natasha replied.
Maria's eyes widened ever so slightly, but Natasha knew she was in charge at least in part due to her decision-making skills. A second later, she nodded. "Yeah," she said, sounding a little hoarse, "Let's go."
Natasha grinned, feeling a little giddy as she grabbed Maria's hand and dragged her out of the bar. Further down the street, Maria pressed her back against a store front and kissed her breathless, her hands tight on Natasha's hips. "My place is four blocks from here," she said. Natasha nodded in reply. She didn't care. The danger here was negligible, she recognised – and that thought made her feel a little lighter, made her a little more likely to pull Maria back into another kiss further up the street.
The next morning, Natasha woke and turned to look at Maria, still sleeping next to her. She leant forwards and pressed a kiss to the back of Maria's neck – Maria mumbled something but didn't wake. Natasha pressed her smile in between Maria's shoulder blades and let herself doze off again.